


Buck

by ilostmyothersock



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Depression, Drinking to Cope, Drug Use, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24397060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilostmyothersock/pseuds/ilostmyothersock
Summary: Plotless Buck angst? Just a little exploration of a headcanon that Buck is (and kind of always has been) pretty depressed. Really I wrote it because I (like obviously many others on here) can't get over how hurtful being called exhausting is.TW: Overdose/alcohol abuse (not particularly detailed?), depression/self-hatred/suicidal ideation (detailed), low self-worth, self-deprecating thoughts, possible past suicide attempt, mentions past sexual assault (the therapist), eating issues.PLEASE NOTE: Depression is a (the?) big big theme here, so mind the TW.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	Buck

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the TW!

MIND THE TW!

* * *

Like anybody, Buck has insecurities.

_Not smart enough, not strong enough, not good enough, too loud, too needy, too weak, too much._

He wonders if everyone feels this way, sometimes - this useless, this worthless, this hopeless - but then he remembers that other people just generally are _better_ than him. That they don’t need to feel like they don’t matter, because they _do_. They _do_ matter.

He takes too many pills one night, and washes them back with too much alcohol. He wakes up in the hospital, and when asked he can only answer honestly that he really doesn’t know if he meant to do it or not. After a short stay during which nobody visits and nobody calls (the only number he gives them is Maddie’s, but apparently it’s been disconnected) he’s introduced to a social worker who urges him to get some help.

He really doesn’t have anything else going on in his life, so he complies. He gets prescribed antidepressants, and the first ones don’t seem to do anything at all. The second prescription pushes him dangerously close to the edge again, so that ends quickly too. Finally, they land on a combination that seems to change... something. He’s not exactly happy and carefree, but he feels like maybe he can function now. He only spirals every day or two, instead of spending every second of every day choking on his misery.

He goes to therapy.

He hates it, but he goes. He hates talking about his feelings almost as much as he hates feeling them, but he eventually opens up. He tells the therapist about how whenever he speaks he worries that he’s upsetting someone, or he’s being annoying, or he’s being too much, so while sometimes he can’t control his runaway mouth (after which he always lies awake thinking about every stupid thing he said), sometimes he just doesn’t say anything at all.

He tells the therapist about how he constantly feels like everyone around him is disgusted by him or bored by him, how they must see that he’s not good at anything, that his brain is wrong, that he doesn’t belong.

He tells him about how he’s stupid, how he’s lazy, how he can’t focus on anything, how he can’t stick with anything long enough to get anything done.

He tells him that most days he thinks about how the only way to fix his miserable existence would be to end it. The therapist asks him “Aren’t there people who would miss you?” but Buck thinks about how he woke up alone after his overdose and knows that the answer is _no_.

He puts in the work, though. He dutifully takes his pills and calls helplines when things feel dangerous, he goes to his weekly therapy appointments and with the therapist’s help tries to sort through which thoughts are “rational” and which supposedly aren’t.

He tries to learn to tell himself that he is valid.

He does as asked and repeats positive phrases to himself until he has them memorized.

_I am kind, I am valid, I am not worthless._

He tries to internalize that no, everybody doesn’t hate him. No, everybody doesn’t want him to leave. No, he isn’t worthless. No, he isn’t selfish. No, he isn’t stupid.

He is kind and sort of good at some things maybe but he always tries his very best in everything he does, and that should be enough.

He starts eating better, starts working out again, and on a whim he signs up for the LAFD academy and he finds that there are actually whole days, sometimes whole weeks, where he doesn’t actively think about how much he hates himself.

Whenever he does, he goes to a bar, has a few too many drinks and finds someone with a pretty smile who is all too willing to tell him (or show him) that they think he’s pretty great, and that seems to work well enough. He graduates, and he joins the 118, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, that therapist was right. Maybe he _is_ good enough.

He gets fired and reinstated, seemingly in the same breath, but he steels himself and dedicates himself to being better. he recognizes poor coping mechanisms for what they are and he promises himself that he’ll do better.

He sleeps with his new therapist, and that almost sends him spiralling but he pushes it to the back of his mind, files it as another one of his own stupid mistakes, and tries to forget about it, and about how dirty it made him feel.

He’s fine.

His morning pills become habit, he goes to work, his coworkers become family, and he almost forgets how hard it used to be to just... _be_.

Maddie is back in his life, and she’s safe, and he has Hen and Chim and Bobby and Athena and Eddie and Christopher and he finds himself feeling almost whole, almost all of the time.

_I am a good person, I am smart, people care about me._

Then his leg gets crushed by a firetruck. 

His control feels tenuous, and he catches himself missing meals and sleeping all day but he rallies. He dedicates himself to healing and getting himself back to work and as he gets stronger he finds himself actually feeling hopeful. Nervous and anxious yes, but tentatively optimistic that maybe everything will be okay soon.

Then he has the embolism.

He finds himself slipping.

_Hopeless._

Eddie and Christopher are just trying to drag him out of his spiral when the tsunami hits, and then everything really falls apart. Bosko, Bobby, the lawsuit...

Then Eddie’s telling him he’s exhausting and that he only thinks of himself and what little hold he had is gone, because now he has _proof_.

_You’re exhausting._

He is, but really he knew all along. Buck knew he was too much. He knew he wasn’t wanted. He spent so many hours in that stupid therapist’s office trying to convince himself that those thoughts were wrong, and he spent so many years afterwards trying to hold onto the idea that maybe he was worth something but there Eddie is, confirming everything he’s been afraid of, everything he’s _known_ , all along.

He gets back to work, sure, and after a rocky start things seem to settle and the team halfheartedly assures him that they’re family and that they won’t leave him but he can tell that even though they maybe want to mean it, they don’t.

Maddie has Chimney (he’s so happy for her it hurts sometimes) and he realizes that everyone in his life has their own people. They have everything they need, and he’s just... there.

They’re happy, and there he is inserting himself where he’s not wanted, making everything about him.

_Self-centered, obnoxious, stupid._

_Worthless, useless, selfish._

_Alone._


End file.
